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When my dad passed away in my sophomore year, I felt my world shatter. Words couldn’t describe the uproar of emotions that crashed down on me. My dad had been diagnosed with cancer four years ago, but all of that time together had not prepared me in the least for when he was gone.

I felt like I was stumbling alone in the dark. I didn’t share my feelings with anyone, even my close friends from school. Some of my school work proved a substantial distraction for me from the hollowness of the home and the empty seat at the dinner table. Mostly, I just did my best to ignore the immense pressure building up inside. My mental health was falling apart.

Other subjects were a source of stress and despair. I was failing my AP Calculus math tests over and over again. I would cry after receiving my test back, huddled under my blankets and feeling humiliated as the teacher congratulated those who had earned perfect scores on my computer screen. I could barely concentrate, and I couldn't even keep up with the homework assigned to each unit. I felt like I was drowning.

My math teacher reached out to me and, through our subsequent Zoom meeting, I learned about her own struggles. She herself had lost her father back in high school, and still struggled emotionally with it today. It wouldn’t go away forever, but it would lessen as time went on. For the first time, I felt like there was someone else who understood me.

With only a month before the test date, my teacher offered six different practice exams with all students needing to take at least two. I attended all six. The pages filled with red ink were extremely disheartening, and I spent the following afternoons redoing the questions I missed and looking up topics I couldn’t get. Slowly, the red ink gave way to pencil lead as I began to see the patterns in the formulas and questions. Though I wasn’t totally out of the woods yet, I could just begin to see the finish line.

After being informed about my dad’s death, my school counselor suggested writing to keep my mind busy. At the time, I didn’t think any words would do justice to what I was feeling. But jotting down random thoughts and memories forced me to honestly confront my pent up emotions. My list of entries grew as I began to come to terms with my pain and grief. Confiding in my feelings on paper taught me to be more honest with myself and reminded me of the perseverance I had so admired in my dad.

By rereading my journal, I could see how meaningful writing had become for me. Wanting to share this with others, I started a website called Oasis In Us with my twin sister where we could publish some of our blog posts. We were astonished by the support we received, and the people who reached out to us sharing their own stories.

As chair of the Sacramento Youth Commission, I was determined to provide support to those who had also experienced fractures in their mental health. I facilitated discussions between our commission and presenters, broadened the impact of our work, and led our official business meetings to gain support from the city. Together we published an informational podcast, collected viable youth resources by meeting with community leaders, and established a mental health fair at the local skate park.

Dealing with mental health challenges is not something shameful and it is not something people should feel the need to hide. I was greatly impacted by mental health after my dad passed, and it did have lasting consequences for me. However, I found having access to a supportive community is life changing. Through this, I learned to find solace in writing and poetry. These allowed me to take the first steps to coping with my grief and to address the barriers I faced head on. Even so, this does not mean that everyone has the same experiences. Everyone handles mental health differently, and conversations about mental health should not be swept under the rug. It is instead an opportunity to be honest with yourself and with others.

I was rushed with a wave of doom and sickness I had never experienced before. The instructions from my teacher became more difficult to hear while It felt like I was going to throw up and die all at once. The background noise got loud while the teacher’s voice decrescendod.The ice cold shivers overcame me and made it feel like I was suddenly attending school in Antarctica. My view of the teacher was like looking through a kaleidoscope. My body was growing weak and I could feel myself fading away. The small circle of view I had left got smaller and smaller until I was gone.

Afterwards, I learned that I had unexpectedly fainted in my 8th grade media class. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I also experienced my first of many panic attacks. I grew familiar with the ins and outs of panic attacks that year especially. I would identify when one would occur, and attribute it to a physical stimuli such as crossing the street or whatever I was doing. In hindsight, the linking of the two caused me more suffering, as I would start panicking before I even got to the street, just believing the two were linked caused me to cause my own anxiety and panic.

I attributed the panic attacks with many other things such as feeling cold in class, any feelings of nausea, having to turn my head in class to see the board, doing any repetitive activity, thinking about blood, public speaking, and even being happy. I believed that whenever I was happy and clear minded, I would expect a panic attack to follow because something wasn’t right, I thought I was incapable of being happy and free from this growing burden. I developed many ways to cope with incoming panic attacks though they were temporary fixes. I thought I could cure this feeling by avoiding it.

Freshman year I continued to prevail, however the problem grew worse. Panic attacks were more common and I started experiencing derealization. Having anxiety and panic attacks along with derealization made getting through the day almost unbearable. I couldn’t get through one 90 minute class without feeling like everything around me wasn’t real, I wasn’t real, the only real thing was this feeling of pain and hopelessness that followed me like a shadow. I couldn’t understand how this thing that wasn’t even physically real could make me actually have symptoms. Other people have disabilities that are much more physically apparent but could still function normally, while I couldn’t. How could my own mind cause me all these problems? 

I grew hopeless as the years went on. I always wondered what was wrong with me, why did I have to suffer with this feeling that affected everything I was doing. I felt alone, useless, and embarrassed. I watched videos of how to deal with this panic. I tried meditation, more breathing exercises, gadgets you could get online. Nothing seemed to work. Once the Covid pandemic hit and we all went online, the panic seemed to slightly improve, but it was still very much there. I associated this lessening of my suffering to mean that I shouldn’t be at school, because if I felt better at home, why would I want to go to school and put myself back into the feeling I finally loosened the grip of.

I felt less panicky, however I grew very sad. I knew I couldn’t live this way, I had goals and aspirations I wanted to achieve in my lifetime. How could I live my life when I can’t even go into a store and feel okay. Other kids were going back to school and giving me a hard time for doing school online. I felt alone all over again. I was at my lowest when I finally went out with my family to play frisbee golf at a park, and just due to the amount of people in that semi crowded park, I couldn’t handle it, I needed to get out of there.

The fear of fear was the worst loop I’d ever got myself into. In Spring 2021, I finally talked to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder. It felt nice to finally have a title to this feeling I couldn’t even explain before. I started taking medicine and educated myself more about mental health. I had a chemical imbalance in my brain. I wasn’t crazy and I wasn’t cursed. I was just like everyone else, and I deserved to be happy.

I’m not sure whether this was due to growing more mature over time or part of the medicine working, but I felt ten times more confident in myself. I wasn’t scared of panic anymore. If I came across the stimuli which would usually send me into fight or flight mode, I just didn’t do anything. I was existing at the moment and I would exist if I had a panic attack. I realized others weren’t going to judge me if I was panicking, and if they did, why would I care? I realized wanting to feel happy and symptom free was never something to be embarrassed about.

I now feel the best I ever have and I’m glad I know what I know about mental health. I’m currently in my school’s Bring Change to Mind club where we talk about our mental health and the importance of it, and how we can help people struggling at our school. I’m grateful for the person I am now, I believe I am more understanding and empathetic of others. My heart is with anyone dealing with mental health illnesses anywhere on the spectrum because I know how it feels to not see the light at the end of the tunnel and believe you will never be normal. However, normal is boring, and why would anyone want to be boring?

Stigma revolving around mental health issues is very prevalent in society today. I have personally been affected by this stigma. I have struggled with anxiety for as long as I can remember, but when I started the sixth grade it was particularly debilitating. I struggled with getting out of bed every morning, knowing the day would bring panic attacks. I felt that I had to hide these struggles from my friends and family in fear of being shamed or made fun of for it. I eventually voiced the feelings I was going through to a trusted adult in my life and they referred me to my school counselor. My counselor at the time helped me realize that going through what I was going through was completely normal and just because I had those feelings does not mean I am “weird” or “weak”. Once I started high school, I was feeling more empowered to control my anxiety and not let it control me but I still had this nagging feeling inside of me. This feeling was telling me that just because I was feeling better did not mean the world had solved its problem of stigmatizing mental health issues. There were still kids, even adults, out there who were silently struggling with no help, just like I was. I knew that I had to do something about this issue.                                     

Since I felt this need to help people struggling with mental health and the stigma revolving around mental health, I figured the perfect way to start was approaching the mental health support system I had on my campus. My counselor at the time was more than eager to help me reduce the stigma around mental health at Hughson High School. She introduced me to the National Alliance on Mental Illness organization that had clubs on multiple high school campuses in our county (Stanislaus County) and also throughout the state of California. My counselor told me I could implement this club on campus by attending a training that the National Alliance on Mental Illness organization was holding. I immediately decided to attend this training with a few trusted friends and the training completely changed my perspective on mental health and the stigma surrounding it. It opened my eyes to a whole world of issues surrounding mental illness on high school campuses. The members within the organization that orchestrated this training not only highlighted the issues but also gave resources and solutions to fix or at least aid in fixing those issues. I brought all of this new information back to my campus and decided I wanted to establish a National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) club on my high school campus. I wanted to change the culture at Hughson High School and make it a safe environment for all students that attended the school. I got approval from the student council and the principal of my school and with the help of my counselor, we started the first ever mental health club at Hughson High School.                                                       

We unfortunately started the NAMI club at Hughson High School in the middle of the COVID pandemic, which was my sophomore year of high school, so our first few meetings were held over zoom meetings. It didn’t matter if they were held over zoom or what time of the day they were held, people showed up. We had at least forty members attending each meeting. There was a clear demand for mental health resources, especially in the middle of a pandemic. We would hold a meeting every month and every month was a different topic like advocacy or stigma around mental health. My fellow founders and I educated our peers on mental health in hopes that it would reduce the stigma on our campus. My junior year of high school, we got a new counselor on campus and because of this new counselor’s ideas, we held an election to name our first officers of the NAMI club.. I was honored to be named the Vice President of the club. My President and I would hold meetings every month about mental health education. We constantly had members approaching us privately and thanking us for creating a safe space. That had to be the greatest reward I could’ve asked for. My senior year of high school, this school year, has been the most special to me. I was named president of the NAMI club and ever since, I have been in charge of how the meetings and activities are run. The club has welcomed many speakers that have a career within the mental health field to not only discuss ending the stigma around mental health but to also educate the students of Hughson High how they can get involved in a career that can aid in ending the stigma. Watching this club be born, prosper, and start a conversation surrounding mental health on my campus has been a gift I will cherish forever.                                                    

Being a part of this club has made me realize I want to continue to try to reduce the stigma surrounding mental health and help kids navigate their mental health issues after high school and throughout the rest of my life. I hope to become a school psychologist someday and continue the path I am on to end the stigma and to make a difference just like my counselor in middle school made a difference in my life.

By being in the Peer Resource and Engagement program (PREP), I have been able to contribute as a mental health advocate to my community and high school. PREP is a student-led leadership program that advocates for mental health awareness and betterment within the community. In this program, I create advertisements providing resources regarding mental health for others. We use social media as a platform to expand information about mental health resources that are often not on social media.       

I joined PREP during my second semester of sophomore year at Yuba city high school. This program was something new and I was one of the first at my school to be a part of this mental health advocate program. I would help organize meetings to come up with events for the month that would be dedicated to informing students on campus what PREP was. The first event of my sophomore year was the Do Not Fear for PREP is Here event. We handed out pamphlets on what PREP was and donuts as well to complement the information provided. Seeing everyone come to the table and curious about who we were inspired me to continue my journey to expand my knowledge on mental health.                                            

One of my favorite events that I helped execute was the Two Scoops for Happiness event that was held out in the quad of my highschool during May or the month of mental health awareness. I set up the booth with stress relieving toys, mental health resource pamphlets, and mini games for students to enjoy. We got over three hundred students to participate and interact with our booth. All these resources were also free to the students which made the resources easily accessible to everyone on campus. Through events like these I recognize that many do not have the support needed at home to explore what mental health is. It is often stigmatized and not recognized like how it was in my case before I discovered the importance of it.                                                       

The beginning of my sophomore year I experienced my first anxiety attack. Overwhelmed and breathless, my parents took me to the hospital thinking it was a physical emergency. The results came back normal and the doctor suggested doing more testing including cardio wave analysis. Again the results came back normal. I felt stressed and worried about what I was experiencing, I felt dizzy at first and could not control my breathing. The doctor then revealed to me that my symptoms concluded that I was having an anxiety attack. I was surprised how these symptoms were related to an anxiety attack. I had no clue at that time what I had to do for the symptoms to disappear, because in my household mental health was stigmatized. Mental health was seen in my household as something nonexistent. I researched what mental health was, because I was intrigued on how the mind could have such powerful effects on the body and coincidentally a new program, PREP, was introduced at my school.                                              

After joining the program, a friend and I decided to open a mental health awareness club on campus to have student involvement. This year I became president of the club and came up with a vision for the year; to spread positivity throughout campus and inform others on how to be kind to their mind. In the club we have accomplished awareness and positivity around school campus. A treasured moment I have from one of the club’s events was when we painted the school’s front windows with positive affirmations and quotes. Many students the next day stood near the windows reading all the affirmations and by that I knew the club was making a positive impact. Many teachers were excited to hear that mental health was becoming a priority at school and aided their students by sharing what the club was to their students. My club’s goal has been accomplished, but there is always more that can be done to advocate for mental health awareness.                           

There is a stigma surrounding mental health, which is why it is crucial to create an environment where it is safe to discuss the realities and effects of poor mental health one may experience. It is also crucial to promote steps to a healthy mindset in young adults, just like what I have done in my school and community. When advocating and informing others in my school, I discovered that awareness should also reach younger audiences in order to prevent the negative outcomes of a serious mental health illness. It is important for resources to be shared throughout the community in order for them to have an outreach and supporting hand. Because of my journey with mental health, I am motivated to advocate for mental health awareness in the college that I will be attending.

As high school seniors, we spend hours in and outside the classroom researching educational and career options. As a result of research and passion, I have decided to study psychology and anthropology to become a school psychologist. I have struggled with finding a career path I could stick with. I hopped from interest to interest on a whim, like a leaf in the wind. First, I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to see the stars and walk on the moon. Then, I considered Marine Biology and dreamed of working in an aquarium or fixing coral reefs. Different interests and dreams would come by but never genuinely clicked. Finally, one stuck; School Psychology.                                                 

I was in elementary school when I was diagnosed with ADHD. I then started to see the school psychologist weekly. He became someone I looked up to. I now realize how he helped me and how his actions aligned with my future vision. He could speak calmly and clearly so that I could understand what was happening. He could calm down other students if they were frustrated or were acting out. He would trust me to be an example to others. He taught me many skills and tools I still use today, making my ADHD manageable.                        

With ADHD, I have had to learn how to manage things that others do not, Like why I see things differently and how I can play a video game for hours, not realizing it. I know the frustration of feeling different from my peers and falling behind them. However, I know how free it is to have the tools to work with my ADHD instead of fighting it. As I have matured and transitioned into education and athletics, I realize the essential opportunities I have had. I became top of my class, a fantastic athlete, and a student government leader, all thanks to the tools my school psychologist gave me. I can now move forward to do what I want.              

I have also been navigating the grieving process since 2020, when my sister, my other half, passed. The grieving process is a human experience. I have found a lack of training for professionals in education on the grief process. Finding professionals who truly understood what I was going through was demanding. I have had little support on campus or in my community due to the lack of resources of living in a rural town. My primary support has been my friends and parents, but there were few adults that I could talk to. Now, I want to be able to remedy that for someone else by studying psychology and becoming a school psychologist. I hope to teach students different coping mechanisms and give them a safe space. I want to have the resources to be someone students can go to and feel supported.                               

Now, I want to give those opportunities to others in a similar situation. I want to devise strategies to help students understand and learn how to work with their ADHD. With diverse school communities, it is essential to understand each culture's view on learning disabilities and mental health to create collaborative and effective student goals. I plan to do this by studying Psychology Anthropology to become a school psychologist, learning about how the brain works, different mental disorders, and how they affect children. I can help students learn ways to cope with and manage ADHD and mental health needs, as my school psychologist did.

“You're going to get fat.”                                                                

Those words were the start of my eating disorder. Hearing those words from the man who was supposed to love and support me unconditionally left me speechless. The anxious feeling in my stomach worsened, wondering to myself, maybe I would actually get fat. I sauntered down the hallway, back into my room, those six words were all I could think about for the rest of the night.                               

After that I picked myself apart day by day. Staring at myself, holding the minimal amounts of adipose tissue on my abdomen in disgust. Looking down at my scrawny legs thinking, my thighs are getting chubby. I stood, looking at myself wishing I could change everything about me. My stomach could be flatter, my face could be thinner, and my arms could be skinnier. At 5 foot 8 and only 120 pounds, I was underweight, but never satisfied.       

I was sick and tired of how I looked, so I took matters into my own hands, and almost stopped eating entirely. My step mom had prepared beautiful gyros for dinner one night with lush vegetables, cleanly cut steak, and thick panini bread. One of my absolute favorite meals.

“Honey, dinner is ready!” my tiny step mom yelled from the kitchen.
 “No thank you, I'm not hungry.” I declined the well prepared meal.
 In my head not eating equaled losing weight, and it worked. Everyday I stepped

on the scale located in the hot, stuffy garage that smelled like burnt rubber and old wood. I watched the numbers fall rapidly, 117, 113, 110, 105. The numbers were going down, but nothing could please the voices in my head. While this crippling eating disorder ate away at my body, it also took a toll on my mental state.

I was severely depressed and hated myself. One fall morning as I woke up, I went to get out of bed and everything flashed black, my knees buckled and my head throbbed due to the lack of nutrition.

These profuse thoughts were taking over my mind. My own head constantly told me, You'll never be thin enough, you're just going to get fat, and you're gaining weight. This is when the self harm began. As I took the blue, geometric patterned scissors and dragged the blade across my upper forearms just enough to make the skin break. I had no intentions of breaking this newly formed habit, until I was called out. My boyfriend stared at me with his round hazel eyes, through the deep blue frames of his glasses, running his soft hands on my newly thinned features until he gets to my arms and he sees the day-old cuts.

“What's this?” his panicked voice shot through my ears
 I was quick to defend myself, “Nothing, I’m fine, really.”
 “What's going on?”
 As my eyes began to water I confessed everything to him
 “You need to tell someone or I will.”
 I was shaken up. Nobody was supposed to know I was struggling, I didn't want to

be a burden to my friends or family, I didn't want to be a nuisance to anyone in my life. Out of all the people, I didn't want him to be the one to out my bad mental health so I worked up the courage to do it myself. Grabbing my white Iphone XR, I opened up the mail app. Forwarding my lengthy paragraph to my sophomore English teacher. Mrs. Brazil received my cry for help. Sending that email was the hardest thing I had ever done in my entire life.           

While I would have rather kept things confidential, legally, my teacher had to notify my parents, who told my pediatrician, to eventually get me the help I needed.         

My doctor referred me to a child psychologist who goes by the name of Dr. Lineville. This is where the self love journey began. I heard the sound of boots coming down the hallway, seeing this tall, olive skinned woman, with faint blonde highlights in her hair.

She called my name.

Dr. Lineville sat me down and asked me all kinds of questions about my physical and mental health. As she asked me this, I had a moment of realization, for some reason in this moment I knew I wasn't healthy. I wanted to make a change in my life.

I started going to therapy once a week. After each visit I slowly felt myself coming out of that dark place. Having more energy, gaining some of my weight back, finally being happy again. Stepping on the scale watching the numbers go up, 110, 117 and eventually 130.

A summer in eating disorder recovery passed and I was a changed person. Using all these methods that had been prescribed to me by my therapist, I was becoming myself again. Methods including preaching to myself that it's ok to eat, food is fuel, and other positive affirmations that made me feel like eating wasn't a bad thing, and they started working. I looked in the mirror of that same bathroom I ripped apart my appearance in and felt nothing but love for myself. I love the way my body allows me to do what I love.   

Day by day, I noticed myself eating more and not feeling guilty. I became a happier person. Enjoying exercise, socializing with my family and so many other things I wouldn't do while I was consumed by my illness.

At the time I didn't want to reach out and I thought I was just going to live my life as a sick individual. Recovering was the best decision I had ever made. On occasion I still struggle with food and my body image, but it won't ever be as bad as it was. My dad is now more cautious with his word choice and hasn't mentioned anything about my body since that day.

My mother lost her mom to metal health issues. Subsequently, I have had to let go of mine for the same reason.

My grandmother committed suicide when I was just two years old as a result of undiagnosed depression. My grandma was not seeing a therapist and instead, self-medicated with drugs and alcohol. Her substance abuse and poor mental state caused her to overdose instead of seeking help. My mother was 15 years old when she had me. Her response to losing her own mother at 17 (when I was just two years old) was to throw herself into a depressive spiral that has never been resolved. Her “self-medication” uncovered a bipolar disorder which further exasperated her depression. This trickle down effect from my grandmother to my mother has impacted me as well.                                    

My mother's upbringing and inability to recognize problems as they arose impacted her ability to mother in a nurturing and appropriate manner. I have been enrolling myself in school since middle school, making my own doctor appointments, grocery shopping, making my own meals, and everything else that is associated with adulthood rather than childhood. Since my grandmother's death, my mother has not been able to celebrate Christmas or birthdays, including my own. Ultimately, I have had to be the parent for both myself and my mother.

My mother was physically and emotionally abusive; but I still loved her. Between her drug addiction and her bi-polar disorder, I never saw any signs of hope that she was able to love me back. With the absence of my father because of incarceration and substance abuse I didn't have any emotionally or physically available parental figure as a child. At an early age, I began to understand that being in a toxic environment, surrounded by people who did not value mental health, was robbing me of opportunities to grow as an individual and strive for a fulfilling life. Leaving my mother for my mental health was my only way out.                                        

I started the emancipation process and won the court case when I turned 17 years old. This multi-generational lack of mental health caused so many issues in my life. Because of all of the trauma I endured in the early stages of my life now I have to rely on a professional therapist to resolve my generational trauma. I wish my parents were able to recognize their dysfunctional thought patterns and had gotten help early in life. My own upbringing would have been more stable and I would have been able to have a real childhood.

I am currently focusing on my high school career and college dreams. I am learning the skills to improve as an individual that should have been instilled in me by my parents. My whole life has been affected by the generational lack of mental health within my family. I learned from their mistakes that self medicating and avoiding self improvement is not the healthy choice. I am striving to close that gap and make my own mental health a priority in my life.

Since my emancipation and the subsequent drawn-out court proceedings, I have found my speaking voice. I have given multiple speeches on my emotional struggles to various Woodland City member groups in the All Leaders Must Serve / Toastmasters Program. To overcome my difficult childhood I have begun to work with children and am re-living an appropriate childhood through them. I work at Swim America in Davis as a swim coach, teaching young children pool safety and swim skills. I am also an Au Pair for four young children ages 3,4,7, and 8. Because of unresolved mental health issues in my family I am rebuilding my childhood foundation while also striving to build a strong future for myself.                            

My plan after high school is to attend a four-year college to further my education in the sciences. I hold an internship as a lab technician at AL&L Crop Solutions. This lab analyzes plant material for fungal, bacterial, and viral diseases. With that experience I got a job shadow position at the Water Waste Lab facility in town. I have taken many science related classes in high school and foresee myself building an exciting and successful career in STEM. I understand that I need to get my bachelor’s degree in order to be impactful, and I am grateful to my community and the Race to End the Stigma Scholarship for giving me the opportunity to pursue my dreams.

I have learned my most important life lessons through my brother, Corbin. Growing up I had two older brothers.  One is diagnosed with mild Autism, but Corbin is diagnosed with very severe Autism. I know many people don’t associate Autism with Mental Illness, but I believe that is a mistake.  Corbin has been tremendously debilitated by intense OCD, incredibly severe Bipolar Disorder, serious social disorders, emotional disorders, communication disability - to name just a few. Both of my brothers have had their relationships and daily living skills significantly impacted by their diagnoses.

Corbin is completely non-verbal and struggles a lot.  But, despite his struggles, he has been able to achieve things I used to think would be impossible for him. He has taught me so much - most importantly, to never give up, and that we are all capable of so much more than we think. My brother has been able to reach some incredible goals, he has helped inspire others, and he has truly shaped the way I view the world.

During our childhood, my family was very connected with the outdoors. We live in a small town surrounded by lakes and mountains. My parents were always determined to give Corbin as many opportunities to enjoy the outdoors, despite his disabilities. Although Corbin is very mentally challenged, physically he is as capable as the rest of us. We always wanted him to be able to take part in the same activities the rest of us did, including mountain biking, skiing, one-wheeling, and swimming. Slowly, with years of patience, help from volunteer agencies working to help special needs, and loads of determination from Corbin, he was able to learn to do all that and so much more! It was never easy for him, but I could tell he was always motivated, and no matter how much he struggled, he never gave up.  Before we knew it, he was skiing and swimming just as fast as the rest of us.

Although Corbin cannot speak, sometimes actions speak louder than words. Not only has Corbin excelled with his athleticism, but he has also grown into a kind, patient, polite young man. Whether it’s holding the door for people entering buildings, putting away the groceries, or taking the trash out, Corbin has always been a happy helper to everyone around him. It amazes me how he remains so helpful, content, and happy despite all that he struggles with.

Thanks to Corbin, I have pushed myself out of my comfort zone and have learned that I am capable of so much more than I think I am. If I’m being honest, I was the first person to doubt Corbin when he was trying to learn something difficult.  But, time and time again, he continued to prove me wrong, Corbin never cared that people doubted him because he believed in himself, and he demonstrated to me, my family, and my friends, to all do the same.

Although Corbin was able to accomplish a lot, I believe his situation was somewhat unique.  Unfortunately, many other special needs kids don’t have the support and opportunities that my parents provided. I would love to get involved with volunteer work to help more people like Corbin find activities they love, and help them realize how capable they actually are. Corbin and my family have taught me to always believe in him, and I hope to teach others to always believe in their loved ones, as well as themselves.

In conclusion, Corbin has taught me that humans are all capable of more than we think, and it is so important to push ourselves out of our comfort zones. Not only that, but we should strive to help others push out of their comfort zones, and always support other people’s goals and accomplishments.

I attend school in the Yuba City Unified School District. As a district, we are far behind in reducing the stigma surrounding mental health, which is why I have joined the newly created Student Mental Health Alliance, a student-led group from Yuba City High School that advocates for free, on-campus therapy for all students at YCHS and River Valley High School (and we hope to eventually rope in the middle schools in the district as well).

We at SMHA are at the forefront of the movement for changing the preconceived ideas about mental health in the Yuba-Sutter area. When SMHA first began, we created a survey to discover if the student body of YCHS believed mental health services were necessary on campus, and we found that 30% of all students who took the survey said they had treatable mental issues/illnesses, and wanted access to treatment. We then got to work; we started a petition, both online and in person, and got over 1000 signatures in support of getting therapists on campus. These signatures were from not just students, but parents and community members as well. This was our first success as an organization.

Our second came recently, when we spoke to the Yuba City Unified School Board about our cause. During our presentation, I shared a personal story about my sister and her struggles with mental health throughout high school; I explained that she was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder in her sophomore year, but never really got any accommodation or help from the school until the end of her senior year.

My part in the presentation was crucial, as the other two speakers that sandwiched me spoke of statistics and numbers, while I used anecdotal evidence to support our cause. I could tell as I spoke, I made some in the room uncomfortable when I mentioned things like my sister’s frequent self-harm and rampant suicidal thoughts. I could physically perceive the stigma against talking about mental health among the audience through their body language: their lack of eye contact, and their unconscious slight lean away from the podium where I spoke. At the end of my remarks, I forcefully re-iterated the district’s need for free therapy on all the high school campuses in the district, and the Board seemed to be receptive. They closed our portion of the agenda with a call to action, and made a plan to work out the financial aspects of our proposal.

I know that ending this stigma is something that desperately needs to happen, and it needs to happen now. It needs to happen for people like my sister and their families, as they deserve the ability to work through their issues without the general population turning their noses up in disgust. I have taken these steps with my fellow students for people like my sister, for people like myself, and for those who silently struggle with their mental state for fear of being ostracized or made fun of.             

I believe that all people, especially children, need to know that it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to feel things. The shame and the guilt that surrounds the mental health conversation must end, and I have taken and will keep taking steps to destroy this harmful stigma forever.

As a black male growing up in Bakersfield, California where gang violence and bad influences are prevalent, it has made me more self-aware of my circumstances. Financially speaking, having a single mother attending college just made everyday life even more challenging. The government assistance we received was a great help but it didn't suffice the amount of nutrition my body required. As an athlete, sustenance is crucial to execute to the best of my ability. This is when I decided the best plan of action was to begin working at the age of sixteen to alleviate the stress. The pain and agony of starvation gnawed at my organs, sometimes even feeling as though they were deteriorating. Having to practice for various sports before school would only escalate my discomfort, depriving me of my focus.

Staying mentally positive is a struggle especially when many of my fellow peers judge me. Many even attempted to make me a victim of bullying. I constantly found myself in these types of unsettling situations, having to stick up for myself even though I have always tried to be kind hearted to every human being. As a leader, I always make an effort to spread positivity and awareness of any form of bullying to create a safe space for those who don't have the will to defend themselves as I do.                      

As a minority, most African Americans can say they have experienced some type of injustice throughout their life. Personally I have dealt with a lot of unpredictable situations, where I was lost, confused, or frightened. Not having a father figure within my life didn't seem like it was that impactful to my struggles at first, but I know his choice to leave me affected me heavily in many ways. Not just financially, but mentally, emotionally, and physically. This caused my single mother at the time to make sacrifices and do the best she could for her three children. However, being the middle child of the family I felt when it came to encouragement in sports, grades, and protection my mother has always been supportive. It was harder for her to understand me on a deeper level especially with all she had on her plate.

At the time I was living in a two bedroom apartment with ten other people including my siblings, cousins, grandmother, mother, and uncle. This was before my mother began her journey as a college student. Living with so many kids seemed like it would be great, but I always ended up labeled as an “attention seeker”, when all I wanted was to feel included and acknowledged by my older sister, and cousins. Arguments and fights occurred frequently between me and all the children within the house, always singling me out. I recall running outside crying nearly every Sunday into my grandma's arms, telling her all that happened. Being called a limitless amount of hurtful and inappropriate names and physically jumped by the children I called family with no justice truly being served made me feel enraged, sorrowful, and hurt.

At a young age my feelings and emotions slowly faded into complete numbness, barely even shedding a tear, comparable to that of a robot. Being an overthinker and a loquacious person, I have always had lots of questions, with no answers and no one to vent to. At first this devastating situation could be internalized as completely horrible for a child to experience, but I was able to find the good in it. I learned that not being able to help myself allowed me to help others. I have always been kind hearted, but I figured to share that positivity with the world I could listen to my peers' problems, giving them advice, never sharing the information, not to a soul. Acting as a confidant for my fellow classmates did allow me to create a safer space for others, but it also can take its toll on one's mental health. Keeping one secret can be hard but over a hundred can take its toll on the mind. To help compensate for this problem I vowed to be more involved with a variety of hobbies/tasks that brought me happiness. Most of the time this was track and field, it allowed me to release stress.

Now that I am eighteen years old, I can now comprehend that not acknowledging how you feel can linger within the mind and heart causing doubt. An area I need improvement in my life is to learn how to show myself self care and reach out to seek mental health help. This will allow me to grow academically within my studies by balancing the stress that comes from college and adult life. I constantly think about how I can live up to my moms, and my peers' expectations of me, or why my race and sexuality could bring danger and even more unfairness into my life as a black man.

My whole life I have been cautious, because if I say how I feel or who I am it has the chance to change the perspective of every single person that has seen the surface of the man I'm striving to be. Sharing one wrong detail could destroy the hope and the care my peers have for me, along with the potential they see in me. It's so hard to live life to the fullest when you're not being the true version of yourself. I started to realize over analyzing can bring along an overwhelming tidal wave of feelings and emotions. Situations that result in stereotypical types of scenarios have prohibited me from showing the world that I am more than man made labels. I am a man who will take this world by storm, by putting action behind my words uniting each faction within society, one by one. In college, I plan to use my circumstances as stepping stones to succeed in life.

Mental health can be misunderstood because it is both a deeply personal and yet universal experience. People having resources and support as they walk through various struggles is important to me and I have made a conscious effort to reduce the stigma attached to these struggles.                               

I have had anxiety for as long as I could remember, not the type of worry that appears in films where I fret over an upcoming speech or am afraid of the dark. My anxiety came in the form of a constant feeling of dread over just about anything. Most of my nights growing up as a kid were spent curled up into a ball in my bed wishing my thoughts would just stop. With the additive of COVID- 19 the isolation from the world and friends only worsened my anxiety, and eventually I fell into a depressive cycle.

Therapy, despite it not being an end all be all, guided me through my anxiety, and the various mind games that came along with it. I began to understand that I didn't have to be alone on my journey of healing, and that through support and surrounding yourself with people who love you can begin to live again.

This discovery anchored a goal within me, I wanted to make sure that no one felt alone in their experiences in mental health. Yet, although I had been involved in leadership programs as well as had connections to my classmates, I had no idea where to begin. That was until I was nominated as a Safe School Ambassador.

The Safe School Ambassador program was created to use students in the school to prevent and stop bullying. My role as a School Safe Ambassador is to improve the school with an "inside-out" approach. Using the tools, training and experience to know how to help those around me. My first big attempt began in my school's Associated Student Body (ASB) classroom with the creation of The Kindness Campaign. I knew that immediately frontloading information and statistics about mental health would not engage students but discourage them. Thus as a cohort we decided to focus on the positives to begin. We made posters with positive messages around the school, created activities to spread kindness, and even included lighthearted, but thought provoking, messages about mental health.

Then at the end of the year, after 6 months of this campaign we wanted to end the campaign with a stuffed animal drive. We decided to donate all the given toys to our local Center for Violence Free Relationships given to children who had been affected by domestic violence or neglect. Yet, it failed utterly. As much as we tried to engage students, only staff members donated to our drive. There are so many quotes about how failure is a stepping block for success, but in the moment as we had to count up the (lack of) donations I wanted to simply quit. How could something that I was so passionate about not resonate with others? If I failed in my goal to spread positivity, how could I even begin to address the stigma that surrounded mental health? As I thought about the failure I had experienced I reflected back on my own experience with anxiety. When I first walked out of my therapist office I wasn't immediately “fixed” it took time and persistence to truly allow me to heal. And just like my anxiety I knew reaching out to the students in my school took more than posters, it took persistence.                      

I spent my entire summer planning and researching. In just a year I had grown and realized that avoiding the topic of mental health only carried on the stigma surrounding mental health. And on the first day of school The Anti- Harassment Campaign began. I wanted to let kids know that they weren't alone in their struggles while also allowing people who didn’t struggle with mental health themselves to sympathize. Most of the campaign focused on the effects of bullying and harassment as to highlight the importance of understanding what people are going through. At first I thought my efforts were futile and useless, but slowly I had people approaching me with their own stories and ideas on how to connect more students.

A plan began to take shape and as a group we worked tirelessly to pull off our most impactful event by far. We referred to it as The Walk for Roses and it was an event that shared the stories of students who had committed suicide due to bullying or mental health. On a lawn frequented by students we placed out 15 desks and on each desk lay a rose as well a story. Knowing my school's previous history I had feared laughter and taunting, but throughout the day I watched as students stopped and silently read those stories and my heart filled with happiness. For the first time I had gotten through and it showed me the impact persistence achieved.

Although my time at my high school comes to an end, knowing that I was able to help open the conversation surrounding mental health even just a little inspires me for my future. I know that my next 4- years in college will be spent reducing the stigma surrounding mental health with not just my story by the stories of the students on those desks who inspired me and showed me the impact that I can make.

June 5, 2021. It was supposed to be a joyous day celebrating my older sister Kaylie’s graduation from High School. It had been a difficult couple of years for her with the COVID shutdown and missing out on a lot of things in her last two years of high school. My mom really wanted to give her a great party for her graduation and celebrate her BIG! She had planned for months. She was making decorations, organizing food, entertainment, party rentals, and handling RSVPs. The big day came, and it was wonderful playing corn hole, sliding down the big water slide, eating pizza and tacos, and having much needed fun!

Later, the party began to wind down. The food was gone, the cake was eaten, the water slide was deflated, and the alcohol had all been drunk. Most of the guests had left with the exception of a few of my sister’s friends, my dad, my step dad, and me. I was driving people who needed rides home and when I returned what I found out was unbelievable to me. My mom had been arrested for domestic battery and taken to the local county jail.

I could not believe it! My mom doesn’t hit people. I have never seen her hit anyone. She had constantly taught me and my siblings that violence doesn’t solve problems all throughout our lives. I couldn’t understand it. There were so many things about my mom and my parents divorce that I did not know, but would later reveal itself. Burdens of pain she carried and never shared.

My mom was released from jail the next afternoon and the following weeks would be very difficult. I was embarrassed and ashamed of what she did and I didn’t want to be around her. My sister felt the same way. My brother was in the military and had to return to his base before my mom was released.

My mom came home that afternoon and went to bed. She stayed in bed. For weeks! For weeks, she only got up to use the bathroom. My stepdad would take her food, run her a bath and help her in, help her get dressed, and brush her hair and teeth. If I went into her room to visit her and talk she would just cry and say she was sorry. She didn’t say much else. I didn’t understand. I knew what happened, but I did not understand why she was being that way now. I was worried about her. I felt like she didn’t want to live anymore. I thought she didn’t care about me or our family anymore. I had never seen my mom like this. I had never seen depression before.

She spent most of the summer in bed. Our family knew she needed help, so we started looking. We were able to secure an appointment with a psychiatrist who prescribed her anti-depressants and set her up with weekly counseling. She began taking medication and attending online counseling sessions. At first there was no immediate improvement. It took several more weeks before she started resuming more normal daily activities. I would say it was a gradual improvement over the next year before she was back to more of herself.

During this time my mother’s struggle affected me greatly. My mom had done everything for our family. I felt very alone. She was no longer doing all of the things she used to do. She didn’t get me up for school anymore. She didn’t make breakfast, do laundry, or correct homework. We didn’t go to the movies, out to restaurants, or take weekend trips. For that entire year I lost my mom. Yes, she was physically present, but she was not the mom I knew and loved.

I learned so much about depression during this time. I used to think that depression was just feeling sad for a long time. I now know that it is a medical condition of the mind that needs treatment. For some reason the events of that night were too much for my mother’s mind to handle and process so it shut down. Medication was able to help correct the hormonal chemicals thrown off within the brain. The counseling helped her work through all of the feelings, stressors, and triggers from this event.

Since then, I have spent a great deal of time thinking about others who struggle with depression. I think about what would have happened to my mom without my stepdad and myself helping her? Would she have lost her job if they weren’t small business owners? Would she have ever gotten the medical treatment she so desperately needed? Would she have gotten worse and become suicidal? Could she have eventually taken her own life? What does untreated depression eventually lead to?

There are people living with many different types of mental health struggles that need support and care. People who have untreated clinical depression can feel hopeless. I try to be an example of a loving caring person that is a sanctuary of trust for everyone in my life. I have told my story to many friends as a way of encouraging them to seek treatment. I like to think my mom’s struggles and that of our family was for a greater purpose. A way for me to have a greater understanding of my fellow human beings and a deeper purpose in being a positive light in the world.

Mental health stigma is a major concern in today's society. Despite progress in reducing the stigma surrounding mental health issues, it remains a significant problem in many parts of the world. In many places, people with mental health issues are still labeled as "crazy" or "unstable," leading to discrimination and exclusion. This stigma can have negative consequences on individuals' lives, including their ability to receive medical care, their employment opportunities, and their overall mental health. In today's society it is important to keep the communication about mental health open with people so that access to mental health care can be accessed early on. The way mental health has personally affected me is indirectly in my uncle.

My uncle is a good person and a hard worker but sometimes he goes through episodes where he doesn't come out of his room and he'll sleep. It is very stressful as a young adult going to visit my grandma and uncle and not being able to see him because he will not come out of his room, and if we try to talk or see him he gets in a very bad mood which affects the rest of us because there's only so much we can do. There are periods that can span one to two weeks at a time where we will not hear from him. There have been times where my uncle comes out of the room for the first time in two weeks and he tells me he hears voices and people talk to him or he'll say that he saw or talked to my grandfather who has passed away. I never really understood why this was happening.

For a really long time I was more confused at why he would go through this because I didn't know much about mental health issues. When he would wake up and tell me what he would hear or who he would see I would laugh because I didn't necessarily know about this issue. I guess you could say I never really took it serious. But as I got older and finally saw that he struggled I decided to ask my mom to better educate myself on what my uncle struggled with. When I asked my mom what was wrong with him, my mother told me that was an example of a person with mental health issues. I didn't really comprehend because I had never seen anyone else go through this so I was at a loss. My mom then went on to explain that my uncle has had issues his whole life and as a young adult the family suspected that he used substance abuse as a way to self medicate because my grandparents didn't know any better to seek out professional help for him. My mom says that we have been lucky in a sense because his mental health has always been manageable in a way. It wasn't until the pandemic that my mom convinced him to seek out professional help and get medication to be treated because we were all worried for his health. The doctor prescribed him medication for anxiety and depression. My uncle admitted that he didn't want to tell the doctor about the voices because he didn't want to be put into a "ward" which is another stigma.

My mom says that she has to take it one step at a time with him. I think that my uncle is lucky that he has a family that cares about him. I like to say that me and my uncle have always been very close and have always had a special bond. I am one of the ones that truly has the patience with him because it is hard having to try to help and be there when he is having those certain episodes. My uncle lives with my grandma and he has support from my aunt and uncle so he is not alone and has all the help he can get. I have also been able to finally see the help he needs and I am able to help when I can either if it's picking up his medication from the pharmacy or even simply taking him his favorite sugar free ice cream and just seeing a smile on his face when I arrive. I feel that a lot of people have compounded problems because they lack support and access when it comes to mental health. When this happens, people with mental health issues

end up homeless and with substance abuse problems which multiplies the problems and barriers. People with these problems are discriminated against and treated like third class citizens. Personally this makes me sad as it hits close to home. We like to believe that my uncle is truly blessed that he does have that support and doesn’t suffer from being homeless or having substance abuse problems and just overall being supported by the right people.

The stigma surrounding mental health has also impacted the provision of resources for those experiencing mental health issues. Governments and organizations have often been hesitant to invest in mental health resources, thereby perpetuating the view that mental health issues are not as vital as other health concerns. This year alone, the Congress has been in session for a couple of months and has already voted against funding mental health.

In conclusion, mental health stigma is a significant problem that must be addressed if we want to create a more inclusive and supportive society. Education and awareness campaigns aimed at reducing stigma as an important step in the battle against mental health stigma. We must recognize that mental health issues are prevalent and require the same level of attention and resources as physical health concerns. It is my dream that my uncle will be able to get his help. He so desperately deserves, free of judgment and stigma, and go back to being his healthy self.

Ever since I was little, I have had a strong passion for the agriculture industry through constant exposure as I’ve either been surrounded by almond orchards or corn fields, and now I live in between two dairies. Along with during the summer when visiting my grandparents where I would spend hours each morning at my grandpa’s animal refuge. It was a special thing that my grandpa and I shared as we both loved getting to help the abandoned animals get a second chance. With that in mind, my passion followed me into high school and I joined FFA as I knew I wanted to be a large animal veterinarian. I signed up for an animal science class and got to experience all of the opportunities the organization had to offer academically and beyond the classroom as well.

I quickly became heavily involved within my FFA chapter and successfully competed on multiple judging and speaking teams through FFA, called CDE and LDE teams, as well as attended many different leadership conferences and conventions. I even ran for chapter office and was elected as treasurer and then president, and got to experience FFA on a whole new level. Instead of only attending events, I now had to plan, organize, advertise, and run them. Despite continuously building my skills and hands-on experience in my veterinary science courses, I discovered a newfound passion in agricultural education through learning from my advisors and the organization as a whole through this new experience as an officer.

Although I still love animals and would love to be a veterinarian, I found new aspirations to be an ag teacher. This came about through being a mentor in my leadership positions and sharing my passions and experiences with everyone by assisting them in reaching their full potential in and outside of the school environment, along with guiding them in the right direction of paving a solid path for their future and possible career. Therefore, with this new career objective in mind, I plan to major in ag education in hopes of being an ag teacher and teaching animal science so I can do both of the things I love most. I have worked hard throughout my entire high school career which has helped me prepare for a solid future.

Ultimately and undeniably, I want to make a positive impact in the agriculture industry and my community in any way possible. I am confident that my experiences, in and outside of FFA, have given me skills that will stick with me for a lifetime and have greatly prepared me to do so. I know for a fact that I will always have a strong passion for the ag industry and helping others and I will strive to continue to do so in my future career.

Keeping my goals in mind, when being in the educational field, whether agriculturally related or not, you are automatically exposed to the topic of mental health daily. Oftentimes a child’s teacher knows their students better than their parents do, and are able to connect with them on a professional and personal level. Speaking in terms of the future, as a teacher I will always keep my students’ best interests in mind and be able to accommodate them accordingly while providing an outlet of support as I know firsthand the unfortunate outcome of battling mental health.

Throughout my childhood I have dealt with poor mental health as there has always been a stigma about it in my home. As someone who constantly struggles with ADHD and recently had a close cousin lose his battle with depression, there are times when I wish I could go and talk to someone and just simply be heard. I was raised alongside my cousin and I saw him as the brother I never had. Despite him being about five years older than me he was my favorite play buddy when the four of us would play the wii together, and the news of his passing struck hard as he silently struggled with his battles for years.

Although I would never wish upon someone what my cousin had constantly battled with, I will always make an effort to have it be a known fact that I am that teacher who is always available to sit down and listen. Regardless of the time, day, or mood I may be in, I am always there to support you, because you do, in fact, matter. After what my cousin and family have gone through, I now know the first and second hand impact of mental health and will advocate for reaching out and helping one another. Whether you are my student or not, I will treat you as if you are my child as I have experienced firsthand the unfortunate outcome of battling mental health and you are as deserving of a chance at life as everyone else.

As the capsules entered my body, the memories of my whole life flashed before me and left my body. In the past couple of years, I have suffered from various mental health issues. This includes intrusive thoughts, anxiety, and depression. Last year, I went through a very tough period that I consider the all-time low of my life.

I would often over-catastrophize all my problems whether they were small or big. This would include overthinking almost everything that my mind was subject to thinking. The rumination that I would be affected by every single day about falsely fabricated situations would often be paralyzing. I could not get out of my head and I would drive myself crazy; often constructing all possible situations. This over-catastrophizing then gave onto my intrusive thoughts.

These intrusive thoughts that I had experienced were incapacitating to a different level than before. They made me believe that I was someone who was horrible, evil, and most importantly, that I was someone to be ashamed of. The images and thoughts that would pop into my mind would be very unsettling and would bring me never-ending worry. They lured me into a state where I would dehumanize myself, coercing me to believe that I was a monster when in reality I was not at all.                  

Of course, I was obviously unwell, and didn’t know how to handle and deal with the issues that I had. The anxiety that I attained from the rumination and obsessive/ intrusive thoughts led me into a great depression.                

It was like my world turned black and white. All the great things that I once enjoyed became stale. The person that I had once loved in the mirror, I had developed a hatred for. The positive light that I had once radiated became dimmed significantly and was close to being put out completely.   

A late night in July 2022, I was struggling on finding the will to live. I couldn’t find the light in the tunnel and had been fully engulfed in the darkness. I was being submerged in so much guilt and torment, that I believed that ending my life would be the solution to the situation that I was in. I deliberately took heaps of my medication. As I sat there that night, on the floor of my room, something urged me to rush to my parents. Crying, I forced myself to see the gravity of the situation that I had put myself in and demanded that my parents take me to the hospital. In a split-second decision, I realized that my life was worth living, even though I was going through a tough time. I had survived my suicide attempt.                                                 

The depression and anxiety that I had experienced had a crippling effect on me, and I endured much pain and agony. I reached out for help when I needed it most. Through the help of therapists and mental health doctors, they have helped me become a more balanced individual and a healthier version of myself, mentally.

Battling depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts led me to learn various skills and methods in helping me cope with my problems. Not only that, but it has changed my perspective on the stigmas of mental health that I see and hear in my everyday life. In the past, I would possibly think that individuals with mental health issues were crazy and weak. Now, I know that those who suffer from mental health issues are individuals that possess great strength to be able to learn how to cope with their problems. I may never fully overcome my mental health issues, but I will continue to learn from my experiences and better myself daily with the skills and coping methods I have learned.

Growing up in a primarily Filipino community, I learned that speaking about mental health was taboo. Our elders did not see the point in discussing our issues- why send their children to an expensive therapist when they could pray to God instead? While I recognize and appreciate the comfort religion brought them, I found that their solutions were ineffective within the younger generations and that we were suffering because of it. When I struggled with depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder, my elders gave me the same advice they gave to any struggling person: Go to church. After taking their advice and finding that my issues were worsening, I decided that, someday, I would study psychology and work in the mental health field to understand myself and help others like me.

Ultimately, I aspire to become a community psychologist and work in a city with a large Asian population. I want to create programs with a comprehensive social-emotional learning curriculum and destigmatize seeking mental help for all generations- especially the elders. In our culture, we look to our elders for leadership and guidance, so normalizing services like therapy starts with them. Change begins at the local level, and I believe working with local government and school districts would allow me to bring the change I want. I also want to make therapy and mental services more accessible; many families avoid seeking help because they cannot afford it or do not have the means to go to another city for therapy. As a community psychologist, I would look for ways to reduce the cost of mental services and ensure that every district has access to professional help. I want my community and people like me to know that they can talk about their problems and that it is okay for them to do so.

Ensuring that people have culturally competent care is also of the utmost importance. I have a few friends who have convinced their parents to take them to therapy in hopes of bettering their mental health. However, they met with white professionals who could not understand the cultural differences between Asian and more westernized families. Those therapists viewed my friends' problems through an American lens and shamed their families without considering how their culture may have guided their actions. This lack of empathy and awareness drove my friends and their families away from therapy and reaffirmed the notion that seeking mental health is only for white people. Often, I wonder how different their experience could have been if they had an Asian therapist-if they had someone who didn't have to take time to understand their culture and upbringing because they had already experienced the same struggle. They would have been better off with a therapist who wouldn't judge their families or call them abusive for cutting fruit instead of saying, "I love you." While my friends and I may have never had that therapist, nothing is stopping me from being that therapist for someone else.

Becoming a community psychologist and destigmatizing mental health in the Asian community begins with a college education. Although a few four-year universities have offered admittance, I have decided to start my journey into upper education at San Joaquin Delta College, a two-year community college. I've been taking classes at Delta since ninth grade and would love to meet my professors in person. I also want more time with my family before I have to go off and move to a new city. The cost, though, was the deciding factor. I cannot afford tuition and board at a four-year without taking out loans and going into debt. By going to a community college and then transferring, I cut the cost of my education by more than 50 percent. After graduating from Delta with an A.A. in psychology, I plan to attend a UC college to earn my Bachelor's degree. From there, I don't know what graduate school I want to enroll in, but I know I want to obtain my Master's and Ph.D. to conduct research and provide services. I will likely be in school until my late 20s. From there, I hope to follow through with my plans as a community psychologist and eventually become a professor. I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for the teachers who went above and beyond to help me along the way, and I hope I can inspire and help others with my work.

I want my work to make a difference, and I believe I can help my community and people like me to heal. Being Filipino-American and struggling with mental health has taught me the importance of accessible and culturally competent care. If I receive this scholarship, I will put the money towards furthering my education and destigmatizing mental health services in the Asian American community.

Why do people feel ashamed for going through mental illnesses? Well, some people feel like they are unable to ask for assistance. Others feel like a burden or that they are inadequate for this world. The list of reasons continues for miles, but from first hand experience I understand how draining and dark these illnesses can be.

My freshman year was the lowest point in my life. I met a boy who I thought was compassionate and generous, which turned out not so true. When I started getting closer to him, I saw the dark and toxic side surface. He would gaslight, manipulate, and most of all guilt trip me. I was an innocent girl who wanted to make the people around feel content and cared for. Little

did Iknow Iwas tearing myself apart in the process. After some months, I finally had a breaking point and decided to once put myself first by cutting him off. People never explain the true devastating torment and guilt you feel after you let go of the person who caused you the most agony. I got to reflect on the situation now that he was no longer there. I blamed myself for the reason he treated me the way he did. I felt like what happened was my creation. My thoughts dug deeper in a hole of depressing sorrow until there was no longer any light, but pure darkness. I did not feel worthy of admiration and no longer wanted to be a part of this world. I lacked motivation for my education and my moods would fluctuate. I did not want to complete any of my day to day activities, but just wanted to stay in bed. My spark faded and I hid the heart ache because I did not want to add on to my parents' plate of responsibilities. I plastered on a mask of smiles, happiness, and joy, the opposite of what truly was behind.

The next year, people close to me were negatively impacted by mental illnesses. One was a family friend who I considered a close cousin. Her name was Angie Garcia, she committed suicide in August of 2020. Her passing was devastating to lots of people, but especially to me and my cousin. We were all extremely close, mainly in our younger years with parties,

sleepovers, and hangouts. Her death caused me to question what I could have done more to have helped her. Knowing she's no longer here in the world left a hole in both me and my cousin's hearts. My cousin, Bryana, took an even more terrible downward spiral in her mental health because she was the last person who talked to Angie. Bryana has always been a high spirited, humorous, and outgoing person. After the tragic event occurred she completely flipped into a person I no longer knew. Seeing the change was frightening because I did not want to see the same traumatic event happen again. Bryana is like a sister to me, losing her is unbearably painful to think about.

In my junior year of high school, I was sexually harassed by a boy. The traumatic event led to me getting severe anxiety and PTSD. Whenever anybody touched me I flinched and felt like I was being pulled back to the time when the boy would touch me, even while I said no or to stop. I used to have a fondness for hugs and hand holding, but now I feel tense and uncomfortable. I feel like I have to constantly be aware of my surroundings because the feeling of uneasiness never leaves. I no longer enjoy being touched because every time I get brought back to those awful past memories.

Experiencing these events led me to become a strong advocate for taking care of one's mental health. I started speaking to my school counselor my senior year because explaining my issues to someone helps me feel seen and not isolated. I started reading books about mental health such as; altering the way people perceive a situation, poems, and interactive mental health books. I bought myself a book with prompts to journal about how I feel or what I am going through at the moment. I discovered the benefit of lifting weights and how by doing physical activity genuinely helps me feel content. Not only do I now put my needs first, but I make an importance of checking in on my friends and family. I enjoy providing tools I use to my friends and family to provide aid in their mental health healing journey. I consistently put an effort to make my mental health a priority because I want to move forward, not back. I am still educating myself a great deal on new techniques to help my journey. Healing is an ongoing process which takes time and patience, but the end result will be extremely rewarding.

The feeling of shame or embarrassment should not be felt by any person going through a mental illness because we are all just humans trying to get through this arduous life. Each individual has a different story and not one is more important than the other, each person deserves to feel belonging. Everyone deserves space on this planet and no illness or person should make you feel otherwise.

I'm 17 years old, and I'm an addict. I write this essay not to be pitied but instead to tell my story and hopefully inspire those who are currently going through similar struggles to those that have occurred in my life. I believe that everyone deserves to have their voice heard and to have the power to inspire and finally end the stigma around mental health.

I've always struggled with my mental health, and anxiety and depression have been a part of my daily life for as long as I can remember. I was never good with people, and I would constantly find myself being antisocial and unable to develop healthy relationships with my peers. As a Hispanic male, I was never able to receive the help that I needed due to the heavy stigma relating to mental health. My mental health issues worsened, and I had my first drink of alcohol at the age of 14. I was at a family gathering; everyone was drinking, and curiosity fueled my mind, so I snuck a beer in my jacket and drank it all later in my room. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever felt before; it was strange, but I liked it. The anxiety that I had experienced every day was suddenly gone after just one beer.

Every party, every gathering since then, I've sneaked one or two beers in an attempt to recreate that strange but comforting sensation. This only got worse as I got older and alcohol became more accessible. My mental health problems became almost unbearable when I was about 16 years old. I would experience panic attacks daily, and to my parents, I was simply overreacting or I wasn't working enough. Then, at a party, I was offered xanax, and I was instantly hooked. There was no smell, no bottles to hide, and I could take them anywhere. I started using it every single day; my anxiety and depression were finally gone, and I could finally socialize and live my life normally. At around the same time, I had started to smoke weed, and I would always combine both with alcohol whenever I had the chance. The high was never enough though; every time I wanted more. I would smoke more, drink more, or take more of anything to get that new, bigger high. I also started experimenting and finding different ways to get high: codeine, oxycodone, klonopin, cocaine, and mushrooms. I was working at a farmers market stand at the time, and I would steal from there to feed my addiction. My addiction and mental health continued to worsen, as I had many times where I had overdosed and ended up in mental hospitals.

Accepting that I had a problem was one of the most difficult parts of my recovery; it took nearly losing my life several times for me to finally accept my problems. I was admitted to a rehab program near the bay near the end of the school year. I wish that I could say that recovery was easy; all the problems that I had "fixed" with drugs came back twice as hard. For weeks on end, I experienced daily panic attacks, intense mood swings, vomiting, insomnia, paranoia, and a variety of other symptoms. After 45 days in the hospital, I returned home with a different mindset and outlook on life. Rehab was only a start to my recovery. Since then, I've had many relapses, and I've seen friends around me lose their lives to their addictions.

I've been sober for four months, and while I still struggle with my mental health and cravings, I feel like I'm finally in control of my life. Therapists, family, and friends have all made it possible for me to continue to have something to live for. Helping others by whatever means I can has also made me find a purpose that I didn't have before. I'm just one of thousands whose lives have been significantly impacted by addiction and mental health issues. We, as people, have the power to create change. We have the power to end the stigma surrounding mental health; we have the power to change the lives of those around us. There are thousands of people around us who have been silenced from sharing our stories and reaching out for help because we are afraid of standing out or being looked down upon. We need our voices to be heard. That's why I ask, if this ever reaches others, for them to share their stories and be the ones to start the conversation to end the stigma around mental health.